


A Pilot's Advice

by BenW



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Courtship of Princess Leia - Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenW/pseuds/BenW
Summary: A short fic detailing a conversation between Han Solo and Corran Horn shortly before the events of the Courtship of Princess Leia novel. This was originally written in response to a prompt from Rogue Podron.





	A Pilot's Advice

The door zipped open, as doors aboard New Republic star cruisers tended to do. Corran Horn stepped through with the sort of drilled military precision he seldom used. He was not sure what this meeting was about, but he wanted to be as professional and presentable as possible so it could be over as soon as possible and he could go on shore leave as soon as possible. The campaign against Zsinj had been so long and drawn out that he had barely had a chance to speak to Mirax, let alone spend any quality time with her. Now Zsinj’s power base was fractured and the Warlord himself was either dead or on the run, Corran wasn’t sure which. But it didn’t matter, he was gone, and Rogue Squadron was back on Coruscant for debriefing and much-needed shore leave before their next mission.

So it was with a bit of shock that he had received the summons, direct from General Han Solo’s desk, to go back aboard the Mon Remonda and report to the General’s office. Corran had assumed that everyone who had been a part of the General’s task force had already departed and the General himself would be spending quality time catching up with Princess Leia Organa. Or was it technically Senator, or maybe Councilor? He could never keep politician ranks straight, they all blurred together without having rank pips like proper uniforms did. Politicians were the one thing about the New Republic that Corran despised almost as much as he hated the Empire, because politicians had almost cost him and his friends just as much as the enemies they fought, except against them Corran couldn’t shoot back.

Of course, no matter how shocked he was, Corran was going to have to answer the summons. Han Solo was a hero of the Rebellion and the republic, and it had been with his leadership they had just brought Zsinj’s forces to their knees. So there he was, marching into General Solo’s office in his cleaned, dressed and pressed military fatigues, hoping against hope that there was not yet another unexpected mission being sprung on him that would keep him away from his wife.

As he stepped into the office, though, Corran was shocked at the state of it. Datapads were strewn about, a uniform jacket and other bits of military décor lying discarded on the floor, and sitting forward in his chair, behind a clutter-covered desk and slumped over a bottle of what smelled like Corellian Brandy, was General Solo himself. He was dressed in civilian clothes, the usual black vest over a white shirt, and looked dirty, disheveled and like he had either been awake too long or had slept far too much, there were bags under his eyes and a despondent slump to his shoulders.

“Lieutenant Corran Horn.” He said. He didn’t sound drunk, but that did not mean much considering he had only said three words. “Come in, close the door.”

Corran took two steps forward and the door closed behind him. He asked, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yeah, I did. Sit down kid, you’re making me feel awkward.” Solo gestured toward a chair that looked like it had been flung against the wall and fallen on its side. Corran had to pick the chair up and set it back on its feet before he could sit down, and by the time he had done so Solo was taking a drink of the brandy straight from the bottle. He set the bottle back on his desk with a grunt of dissatisfaction. “You know why I called you here, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.” Corran said, shaking his head. “I… can’t venture to guess.”

“Lieutenant… aw, hell with it. Horn, listen. You’re a smart guy. You’re a good pilot. Wedge, Tycho, they think you’ll lead a squadron of your own someday. Now, normally I’d ask one of them a question like this. But they don’t have the experience you have for this, and besides both of them disappeared as soon as we got back to Coruscant. So, I’m asking you.”

Corran was thrown, but he managed to not sound completely stunned. Or he hoped he did, anyway. He had no idea what he might have experience in that Commander Antillies and Captain Celchu didn’t. Was this related to the possibility of him becoming a Jedi? Or something entirely different that he was so unconscious of that it would take someone else to point out? “Of course, sir. What sort of question did you have?”

Han Solo got up from his chair and started to pace, leaving the brandy behind. As he walked, Corran noticed that he was not just disheveled; his clothes, from his shirt down to his boots, all looked rumpled and creased like he had slept in them, or at least not changed out of them in a while. And he also noticed that General Han Solo’s eyes were red. It was impossible to tell if that was from the drink, or for another reason.

“This doesn’t leave this room.” Solo ordered, “I need your word on that. Man to man, Corellian to Corellian. This whole discussion, everything we talk about, doesn’t leave this room.”

“You have my word, sir.”

“Ah, stop it. This isn’t military. Call me Han.”

“Very… well. Okay, Han. What did you want to ask?”

But Han kept pacing. He went back and forth across the room behind his desk like he wanted to wear a hole in the floor to stand in. He was worried. More than worried, he was about to crack up. Corran had never seen him this distraught, not even in the darkest days of the campaign against the Warlord. Finally, facing away from Corran, he spoke again. “Leia and I… we’re having trouble. Or maybe it’s just me who’s having the trouble, I don’t know. I just need someone to talk to about it and I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to on this short of notice. And we’re talking here instead of back on the Falcon because I don’t want any furballs overhearing us.”

Corran’s mind was already in a tailspin, and now the incredulity at what he was hearing almost made him laugh out loud. “You… called me here... to give you advice… on your relationship with Princess Leia?”

“It sounds so stupid when you say it like that.” Han said, shaking his head. He went back to his desk and picked up the bottle again, but instead of drinking out of it he just held it in his hand for a moment, then looked at Corran with a bit of embarrassment in his eyes. “Sorry, I’d uh, offer you some but I’m fresh out of clean glasses.”

“No, it’s a bit early in the day for me anyway.” Corran took a moment between sentences to let his mind spin up and try to read between the lines of what Han was saying. “Is this about the Hapan delegation that we almost flew into when we reached Coruscant?”

“No.” Han said quickly. A bit too quickly, Corran thought. “No, it’s just… we’re going through a rough bit, Leia and I, we’ve both been busy, I’ve been off-world fighting Zsinj, I come back and she’s still buried in work and then…” His voice drifted for a moment, and his eyes hardened. “This guy comes along and tries to sweep her off her feet like she’s some kind of delicate flower he can just reach down and take for himself.” Han pointed at Corran. “And she’s not that kind of woman, not at all!”

“No si-, I mean, no, I wouldn’t think she would be.”

“Stupid, stuck up- you know, it’s easy for him. He could probably have any woman he wants. He’s rich, he’s good looking, hell, he’s the prince of a whole star cluster!” Han took another drink from his bottle of brandy. He was not even looking at Corran at this point, staring off into the bulkheads of the ship around them. “Of all the women on all the planets in all the galaxy, he has to go after her.”

Corran shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Listen, Han…”

Han’s gaze snapped back to Corran. “Horn, you’ve got a girl, right? That one girl, uh, I’ve seen her around here. Mira? Marix?”

“Mirax. And yes, we’re married. Commander An- uh, Wedge did the ceremony.”

“Good for you.” Han said with a nod. “You two happy together?”

“We’ve uh, not had a lot of time to spend together since we got married. Between bringing down Isard and then this whole mess we’ve had with Zsinj…”

Han nodded again, this time in sympathy and solace. “Yeah. It’s rough, this life. Not sure I like it. I should have left a long time ago, gone to Leia and asked her to marry me. Now look.” He tossed his hand around the room, at the chaos of clutter. “They’ve got me cooped up in this cabin, dressed up in a monkey-lizard suit and shouting orders that get people killed while Leia’s off being wined and dined by the rich and powerful from all over the galaxy.”

“Han, listen, you’re putting yourself too far down.” Corran stood up so he was about level with Han’s eyes. “You going after Zsinj, it might have shortened the war by months, maybe years! You aren’t just someone the New Republic dressed up in a suit so they could parade you in front of all of the holo-cams, you’re one of the best Generals we have.”

“I made mistakes.” Han said, looking Corran straight in the eye, “I got people killed, maybe even friends of yours. How am I one of the best?”

“Officers make mistakes, Han, just like the rest of us. What matters is what you do to keep from repeating your old mistakes, to keep it from happening again. And guess what? Those mistakes you think you made, it all worked out. You stopped Zsinj. You destroyed the Iron Fist. And you’re the man that Princess Leia loves, no matter who else happens along, no matter how rich they are or how powerful.”

“I dunno.” Han said, almost mumbling to himself. “This guy is pretty rich.”

“But, Han, listen. Doesn’t Princess Leia have her pick of any number of thousands of bachelors across the Republic? She’s rich, she’s influential, she’s everything you said about this other guy. So why would she need any of it?”

“I don’t know! I just…” Han struggled visibly for the words, which were blocked by either the brandy or his own feelings and internal struggle. “I feel like she deserves better than me. But I don’t want to just let her go, either.”

“Then don’t.” Corran insisted. He paused for a moment, not sure of how much else he could really say without overstepping his bounds. But then, Han had asked him for his advice. Corellian to Corellian, man to man. “Let me ask you. Do you love her?”

Han nodded emphatically. “Yeah I do.”

“Does she love you?”

The look on Han’s face and the twist to his gesture said that he thought the answer was obvious. “Of course!”

“So show her that you love her, and remind her of why she loves you!”

“And how do I do that?”

It was Corran’s turn to spread his arms out as if the answer were obvious. “I don’t know, do something stupid! Be daring and reckless! Be Han Solo! Be the sort of guy that I would have arrested and tossed into prison back in my days at CorSec! She fell for you back then, so there must have been something about you that she liked!”

“She doesn’t just like me, she loves me! She loves me.” Han paced away from the desk, then turned back again. “But what if she has to choose between me and someone like that, I don’t know.”

“She loves, you said. Why would she go against that?”

“One thing about Leia, she’s devoted.” Han shook his head. “Not just to me, but to her ideals, and her people. It’s been that way since we met. We were always on the run, I had a price on my head, and the Rebellion was falling apart all around us. Through it all, she was focused, she was driven, she never backed down. Now it’s… everything’s different. I’m a General but I hate it. She’s a Councilor, and she loves it. I wish that things could go back to the way they were, go back to when life was simple. But she doesn’t. She never would. She’s fought for this her whole life, she lost her planet, her family… She needs this more than she needs me. She needs to be happy.”

“Now you’re just putting yourself down for no reason.” Corran shook his head, “What makes you think you can’t make her happy? She doesn’t have to choose between her career and you, Han. Mirax and I both live our lives, we have our own careers-“

“And how often do you see each other?” Han interrupted with a sour tone. “How much would it eat you inside to know that she’s off on some adventure somewhere, being romanced by some handsome prince from a far off planet, while you’re stuck here on the ground with your thumb up your backside? What would you do?”

“I… off the record, Han?”

“You see anyone recording in here, I’ll shoot them.”

“I’d jump ship and go after her. Damn my orders and the whole fleet. She means that much to me.”

“You’d throw away your career?”

Corran smirked. “When I first got to the New Republic, I didn’t have anything except my ship, my droid and a whole cartload of emotional baggage. If that’s all I have when I leave it, if that’s what I’m reduced to if I have to go after my wife, then so be it. But if someone or something were trying to take her away from me, I would go after her and nothing in this universe could stop me.”

Han nodded. He set the brandy down on the table, though it had been a while since he had drunk from it and Corran had almost forgotten that he was holding it. “You’ve got your head screwed on pretty straight, Horn.”

“Well, some might disagree with you there. What’re you going to do?”

“I have a plan.” Han said. He straightened up, and when he did Corran could see that bit of a glint in his eye that he remembered seeing when Han stood on the bridge of the Mon Remonda and all of his plans were coming together. He had also seen it when Han was down in the ship’s lounge, rank bars stripped away, and beating everyone else with ease at Sabacc. It was the sort of look that, if Corran were still with CorSec, he might have made Han a person of interest for whatever case he was investigating.

“Does it involve shooting someone, breaking and entering, or both?”

“Hopefully neither. But you never know.” Han gave Corran a loose salute. “Thanks, Horn. Dismissed. Go see your wife, enjoy yourself for a while.”

Corran saluted back. “Will do, sir.” He then turned, slid the chair out of the way, and walked out of the cabin, though his pace was far less crisp and military than it had been. On his way out, he heard Han speaking to something behind him, probably a commlink, just before the door closed.

“Dalla, hey, you old slime bag. Listen, about that game…”


End file.
